


The Demon and the Librarian

by Selenay



Series: The Demon and the Librarian [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Clint With a Tail, Crack, Demon Clint Barton, Librarian Phil Coulson, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Trope Bingo Round 2, Tumblr Prompt, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 19:53:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/pseuds/Selenay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson only intended to summon an imp as an experiment to prove demon summoning was impossible.</p><p>He got a lot more than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Demon and the Librarian

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a three sentence AU, from a prompt by totalnerdatheart who asked for summoner/demon AU. It kind of grew.
> 
> This is the cleaned up version of what was originally posted to Tumblr in multiple parts. The New York Central Library is a fictitious baby cousin to the New York Public library, just in case anyone thinks I'm confused about New York's excellent library system.

Phil spoke the last syllable of the incantation he'd memorised, threw the burning herbs inside the circle he'd carefully burned into the floor, and was immediately blown back into the wall behind him by the concussion of heat and displaced air that resulted.

When his eyes stopped watering he peered at the circle and made out the figure of a man dressed in scruffy jeans and a t-shirt that showed off his impressive biceps perfectly (Phil had always had a weakness for nice arms), which was definitely not what he'd been expecting when he tried summoning a demon: he'd expected something a little less human, a little more...demonic in appearance. Maybe with horns.

A wicked, lush smile curved the man's lips and he prowled to the edge of the circle where he posed provocatively, hips tilted seductively, and banished all of Phil's doubts about his demon-ness by asking in a voice that almost purred, "Hello, Phil Coulson, how may I serve your wickedest wishes?"

The bright, eager look in the man's blue eyes and the way he slowly, deliberately licked his lips made heat rise in Phil's cheeks and he swallowed hard before he stood up. Phil felt underdressed and unprepared for this. The sleeves on his old, baggy sweater flopped over his hands so he had to push them up again, which only made him feel even less confident.

He hadn't actually expected to summon a demon, not deep down, and not one with devastatingly beautiful eyes and a body that invited Phil's mind to go to all sorts of dangerous places. If anything appeared at all he'd been expecting a small imp and he hadn't been completely confident he'd manage that much. This was only supposed to be an experiment, after all.

"Who are you?" Phil asked as he moved closer to the circle, staying carefully out of reach.

The man threw his arms wide and grinned, his eyes tracking over Phil's body and widening appreciatively even though Phil knew his current wardrobe was loose-fitting and unflattering.

"I'm whatever you need me to be," was the response, still in that low, seductive purr. "Whoever you want me to be. Whatever your wish, however foul, I'm here to obey and serve you. That's the deal you made when you called me, demon summoner."

"Anything I wish?" Phil asked curiously.

The texts Phil had read had indicated the demon would be his to command until he banished it, but they hadn't been completely clear and there had been a lot of convoluted wording Phil was sure had been drafted by a lawyer rather than a magician.

"Anything," the demon purred. "Really."

Phil took a careful breath and asked, "What's your name?"

That caused the demon to stop and blink for a moment, his lush smile replaced by a confused one for a moment before settling back into a wicked expression. "Is that all you want? My name?"

"For now."

"You may call me Clint, then."

Clint. That wasn't a name Phil had been expecting. It was too...human. Everything he'd read said demons had to do as their summoner commanded and couldn't lie to them, but that didn't mean they had to tell the entire truth. They could omit things or choose to interpret words in a way that hadn't been intended but didn't directly contract the precise wording of whatever commands they were given.

All of which meant Clint might be _one_ of the demon's names - it might even be the demon's preferred name - but he probably had other names as well. Names he wouldn't give up easily because it would give Phil even more control than he already had and no demon, no matter how young or inexperienced, would allow themselves to be trapped in that way. Or so the books said.

"Clint," Phil said slowly, testing out the name and watching as the man's eyes widened fractionally as though he was surprised about something. "You aren't what I was expecting."

"What were you expecting?" Clint asked. "Someone taller?"

He was barely an inch taller than Phil and his chin tilted up slightly, looking oddly defensive as he waited for Phil's reply. Clint's smile faltered again for a fraction of a moment and Phil wondered for the first time exactly what he'd brought to Earth. None of the books he'd read said anything about demons having insecurities or doubts: they were supposed to revel in their corruption without any concern for how people saw them.

"Someone smaller," Phil admitted carefully. "An imp. The books I was using said this spell was for one of the lesser demons, not someone like you."

Clint's smile turned wicked again. "You mean someone devastatingly handsome and powerful?"

"I was expecting horns. Maybe a tail."

The air around Clint seemed to shimmer for a moment as though it became suddenly very hot and when he was visible again, he'd changed. There were small horns poking up out of his spiky hair, his skin was tinted red rather than golden tanned and there was a tail rising up behind him to drape over his shoulders.

He was also stark naked and Phil very deliberately kept his eyes on Clint's face because he was fairly sure he didn't want to know this much about someone he'd only just met. Even a demon.

The tip of Clint's tail twitched against his skin and the low, filthy chuckle he gave as he watched Phil watching him reminded Phil this wasn't a man he was talking with.

There was a moment's pause, probably for effect, and then the air shimmered again and Clint was back to looking human with his tanned skin and spiky hair, not a horn or a tail in sight. He was also fully clothed and Phil breathed a careful sigh of relief.

"Like I said, I can be anything you want," Clint said. "Anything."

"But you prefer this form?" Phil asked curiously.

Clint shrugged. "It looks good on me, don't you think?"

"And you're not an imp."

"No, I'm not," Clint said.

Phil sighed and flicked a glance at the stack of books sitting in the corner of otherwise empty basement. "Fuck."

"You'd prefer an imp?" Clint asked. "I'm much more useful than an imp. And far prettier."

Phil's involuntary snort of laughter caught him by surprise and he wondered whether this was the hysteria setting in now he'd proven demon summoning was real, possible and potentially devastating for the entire world. This whole project had been aimed at disproving the rumours that demon summoning was being done in the darker corners of the underground supernatural community.

Instead he'd proved demons existed and the books sitting on the shelves of the library upstairs were dangerous objects rather than the curiosities most of the borrowers assumed they were.

"I should send you back," Phil decided.

Clint pouted. "But I only just got here! We haven't done anything yet. Are you sure there isn't some small terrible service I can give you? A colleague I can curse? A budget committee I can kill?"

"I’m a librarian," Phil said firmly as he moved back to his books. "We don't curse each other and I can deal with the committee just fine."

"I'm sure you're very good at what you do," Clint said. "But I can still kill someone for you. It'll be fun. Entrails are so pretty when they decorate a room like streamers."

"You're disgusting."

"I'm a demon. It's what I do." Clint grinned. "If you weren't looking for eviscerations, how about wealth? Humans call me and ask for money all the time. It's kind of boring, but you people seem to like it."

"It's definitely time to send you back."

Phil had stuck Post-Its into the book to make sure he could find the banishing commands if he needed them fast so he opened it with one hand and grabbed a handful of red sand at the same time. He reread the words to check he could still pronounce them properly and took a careful breath.

Carrying the book, he approached the circle warily. Clint folded his arms across his chest and canted his hips provocatively, which was probably supposed to distract Phil but all it did was make him more certain about what he needed to do. The demon had to be banished before he could tempt Phil into anything he'd regret later.

The banishment was a much shorter spell than the summoning, only ten guttural syllables. Phil said them as clearly and forcefully as he could and threw the sand into the circle. There was a loud concussion of sound and heat again. It forced him to take a few steps back and he dropped the book as he raised his hands to shield his face.

When the air cleared and Phil's eyes stopped watering, one thing was immediately obvious.

Clint was still standing in the circle.

"You're still here," Phil said numbly.

"I noticed that," Clint said.

"Why are you still here?"

"Are you sure that was a banishment spell? I've heard a few and that didn't sound like any I've heard before."

"The book said it was."

Clint snorted. "The book you used when you were calling an imp? I don't think that book is as reliable as you think it is."

Phil frowned down at the offending book. It had seemed like one of the more useful books - it was mostly in English and the wording hadn't been as obscure as some of the others - but maybe that was the problem. Maybe he should have spent more time translating some of the older books, the ones in Latin and Medieval French, so he could double check his information.

"I guess you're stuck with me for now, then," Clint said, looking surprisingly cheerful considering he was a demon stuck on Earth until Phil worked out how to send him back.

"I guess I am," Phil said thoughtfully.

"You don't sound happy about it."

Phil crouched to pick up the book, smoothing out the pages carefully even though the urge to hurl into the wall and maybe set fire to it was strong. "I'm just not sure what to do with you until I work out how to send you back."

Clint leered suggestively. "Step into my circle and I'm sure we can think of a few things to pass the time."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because even if I wasn't deeply suspicious of a demon propositioning me." Phil had to pause for a moment and clear his throat. "Even if I wasn't deeply suspicious of getting into that circle - the one that's confining you and keeping me safe - whatever you're suggesting wouldn't get me any closer to working out how to send you back."

The wide-eyed faux innocence in Clint's face was almost funny. "I can't do anything you don't want me to. That's the deal you made when you summoned me."

"As long as you stay in that circle." Phil stood up and hugged the book against his chest. "None of the books mentioned what happens if the summoner gets in the circle with the demon."

"What happens is whatever you want," Clint said, his voice a deep rumbling purr again. "I'll follow your commands to the letter. Master."

Phil's mouth suddenly felt very dry and he couldn't decide whether it was the look in Clint's eyes or the way he'd slowly drawled out the final word, giving it far more weight than such a short word deserved.

"No, I think I'll stay out here," Phil said firmly. "I have some reading to do."

Clint sighed and his shoulders slumped. He almost looked disappointed, except there was a hint of wicked amusement in his eyes as he looked up at Phil through his eyelashes. There were probably other men - maybe a few women, even - who would be taken in by the fake sadness but Phil wasn't going to let himself forget that Clint was a demon and deception was as natural to him as breathing.

He ignored the dramatic disappointment in Clint's posture and retreated to his stack of books in the corner, spreading out the most likely ones around him and starting the painstaking process of collating information again. It would be more comfortable to work in his office next door, but he wasn't going to let Clint out of his sight. There was no telling what he might do, even if he was confined to his circle.

Phil worked in silence for a few minutes before being distracted by a small flash of light and a quiet hiss of pain. He looked up to see Clint sucking a finger and glaring down at the circle burned into the stone floor. At least the sight confirmed Clint couldn't leave the circle, something that had been preying on Phil's mind since the failure of the banishment spell. Phil smiled to himself and pretended he couldn't see the way Clint tried to turn the finger sucking into something suggestive instead of injured the moment he noticed Phil watching him.

It sent a flush of heat to his face anyway and he bent his head to the books again and tried not to look up, despite another flash and another hiss of pain a while later.

Even if he couldn't banish a demon properly, at least he could conjure a solid containment circle.

The words were starting to blur in front of him and even English was beginning to look like a foreign language when Phil turned a page in a small book no larger than the palm of his hand and an illustration popped out at him. It was a drawing of a bracelet with a complex design etched into it and it looked oddly familiar. Phil pulled the book closer to his face so he could read the explanation under the picture, which was printed in tiny type and he wished he'd thought to bring a magnifying glass into the office with him.

He squinted and the words came into focus: 'Silver cuffs for the confinement and control of demons.'

"Huh," he muttered.

The design looked incredibly familiar. In fact, it looked like something he might have seen recently, within the last week at least.

"Found something?" Clint asked.

The rumbling purr was gone from his voice and if Phil hadn't known exactly what Clint was, he might have thought Clint sounded...worried.

He looked up from the book and his eyes watered for a moment as he struggled to refocus on something further away than the end of his nose. Clint was sitting cross-legged in the centre of the circle now and he'd somehow acquired Band Aids on two of his fingers.

"Possibly," Phil said. "Don't go anywhere."

Clint shrugged casually. "OK."

The long hours sitting on the floor caught up with him when Phil stood up. His joints were stiff and sore and his spine popped and crackled as he tried to stretch some of the kinks out. There was a quiet wolf whistle from Clint's direction and Phil deliberately turned his back so he wouldn't see whatever cheerful leer the demon was sending his way.

The lights in his office next door were still on and his computer screen saver was bouncing around the screen, exactly the way he'd left it when he'd locked himself away in the basement just after the library closed. It was a small, cluttered office with just enough room for a desk, chair, and several filing cabinets. Phil had spent the first week in his new job trying to work out why the office was so small when it was the only room in the basement. Then he'd decided to move one of the filing cabinets across the room and accidentally broken the glamour hiding the door to the casting room behind it.

He strong suspected that his predecessor as head of the library had been a magician. Not just because the casting room showed signs of regular use, although that was a fairly major clue.

No, it was the contents of some of the filing cabinets that made Phil suspicious. Some of them contained the usual files and papers he'd expected, but he'd had to break into two of them and the contents of those were definitely not library records.

There was also the fact that the former head librarian had disappeared suddenly leaving no clues and nobody could trace his family or, in turned out, any record of his life before he arrived at the New York Central Library.

Phil went straight to one of the filing cabinets he'd broken into and began searching methodically through the drawers. He found what he wanted in the third drawer down and carefully lifted out a plain wooden box. Setting it on his desk, he took a deep breath before opening the lid and staring down at the matched pair of wide silver cuffs nestled on the plush velvet lining. He picked one up and traced the engraving wrapping around it with a finger. It was a beautiful design, a swirling tangle of lines and knots that drew the eyes to try to follow them as they wound in and out of each other.

It was exactly the same design shown in the book.

He'd found them during his first, brief cataloguing of the cabinets and they'd seemed like the least dangerous items in there. Pretty and possibly valuable, but there were other items that needed more immediate attention so he'd put them aside to be dealt with later. Last week he'd taken them out with a vague intention of getting them valued and now he was grateful there had been a water leak in the young adult fiction room that had distracted him from doing anything further.

If his predecessor had been keeping demon binding tools around then Phil definitely needed to check into him with a bit more urgency.

But not tonight. 

Tonight he had a demon to deal with and he wasn't going to think about how convenient it was that there just happened to be demon binding wrist cuffs sitting in his office. He took out the other cuff and put the box into one of his desk drawers with a mental note to look at it more closely tomorrow.

Clint was still sitting cross-legged in the centre of the circle when Phil returned to the casting room. He was leaning back on his hands, which made his t-shirt stretch across his chest in a distracting way and he smirked when he caught Phil looking.

"Find something fun?" Clint asked.

Phil held up the silver cuffs and both of Clint's eyebrows went up.

"Handcuffs? Kinky." Clint's grin turned filthy. "I approve."

"Not handcuffs." Phil held the cuffs apart, demonstrating the lack of chain joining them together. "Binding cuffs."

Clint's eyes narrowed. "That sounds less fun."

"I can't leave you down here until I work out how to banish you, someone would find you eventually," Phil said as he found the clasps to open both cuffs. "And I can't let you loose on the world either."

"You summoned me," Clint said. "That makes you my master so I have to obey all your commands. You could try ordering me to behave."

"Forgive me if I don't trust you," Phil said. "You'll find some way to get around that."

Clint shrugged and didn't contradict him. "I can't change my nature."

Phil clipped one of the cuffs around his right wrist and threw the other one to Clint, who snatched it out of the air and began examining it curiously.

"Pretty," Clint said. "What does it do?"

"According to the book, it will stop you going far from me or hiding from me," Phil said. "And it will enforce any commands I give."

"Doesn't sound so bad." Clint grinned. "Does this mean you're taking me home with you?"

Phil ignored his comment and gestured to the cuff in Clint's hand. "Put it on."

Clint rolled his eyes and snapped the cuff around his wrist. The air shimmered for a moment around it and Phil felt the metal around his own wrist momentarily heat up and tingle against his skin. It was over almost before he could register the sensation, leaving the metal cool and inert again. He rubbed absently at his wrist, vaguely noting that the cuff seemed to have shrunk slightly to fit snugly instead of hanging loose.

The expression on Clint's face was hard to decipher as he raised his arm to examine the cuff again and then tug at it for a moment.

"It won't come off," Clint said.

"That's the idea. It wouldn't be very useful otherwise."

Clint heaved a deeply offended sigh and stopped pulling at it. "I don't like it."

"You're not supposed to."

"It's going to cramp my style."

"If it means I don't have to worry that you're going to slaughter any budget committees, I can live with that." Phil shrugged and stepped closer to the circle. "I'm going to let you out of this now. Don't kill anyone. Don't disappear."

"Solemnly swear, I won't leave your side." Clint stood up and moved to the edge of the circle. "Are you taking me home with you?"

"It seems like the safest option."

"I don't like safe."

"I've noticed."

Opening the containment circle was easy: Phil said one word, put his foot over the burned mark on the stone to 'break' the circle and there was a quiet whisper of air shifting in the room. Clint immediately stuck a hand out and grinned when nothing happened.

"What's next?" Clint asked.

Phil sighed tiredly. "I change and then we go back to my place. I've got to be back at work in a few hours."

"That sounds very...wholesome."

There was no reply Phil could think of to that so he led the way back to his office and told Clint to turn his back. The suit Phil had worn during the day was still hanging over his chair. He quickly stripped out of his floppy old sweater and jeans - both heavily stained with sand and herbs - and pulled on the suit. He left the tie in his pocket and the collar unbuttoned, but the armour of his usual clothes somehow made him feel more confident about dealing with Clint.

Right up until he turned around and found Clint watching over his shoulder, his eyes hot and intent and his smile filthily suggestive.

"I thought I told you to turn your back," Phil said.

Clint shrugged. "You did. You didn't say anything about my head or not looking."

Phil closed his eyes and thought back, realising with dismay that Clint was right and he was going to need to be very, very careful about how he worded every request he made.

"You've got nothing to be embarrassed about," Clint said without a hint of remorse. "Trust me, I'm an expert on this. You wouldn't believe the number of people who call demons because they want new bodies. I've seen just about everything and you definitely don't need to feel ashamed. Have you ever thought about silk boxers? They feel pretty amaz-"

"No," Phil said, before Clint could say anything about silk and skin. "You're not discussing my choice of underwear. Ever." He thought for a moment and added, "With anyone."

Clint opened his mouth to say something and the oddest expression crossed his face, a combination of irritation and confusion that made Phil grin because at least it was proof Clint really was bound to obey him. For now, anyway.

"You're getting better at that," Clint said after a minute of fruitless facial contortions.

Phil threw the soiled sweater and jeans into a deep desk drawer and gave the office one last visual check, making sure nothing dangerous had been left on display. It all looked safe so he locked the door to the casting room and gestured to the exit.

"Time to go?" Clint asked.

"Past time," Phil said. "Demon summoning is more tiring than I'd expected. Let's go home."

An unholy light appeared in Clint's eyes and the demon was suddenly right beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. Before Phil could protest there was a sensation like his stomach was dropping into his shoes and the air seemed to freeze in his lungs. It made him choke and he instinctively grabbed for something to hold onto, ending up clutching a handful of Clint's t-shirt like a lifeline. Everything went dark around him and Phil could hear things in the darkness, things that whispered and sighed in languages he couldn't understand and didn't want to try understanding.

Then the darkness cleared and he could breathe again. He stood for a moment taking in great gulps of air, only becoming slowly aware that Clint was still wrapped around him and seemed to have no intention of releasing him.

Clint ducked his head and took a deep, appreciative sniff at the skin just above Phil's collar. He tightened his arms to pull Phil closer and sniffed again, sighing happily about something Phil didn't want to speculate on.

It was tempting to stay there but Phil forced his hand to let go of Clint's t-shirt (he wasn't going to examine why that was such a battle) and then he tried to push away. The sudden resistance made Clint look up and pout but he eventually let go and allowed Phil to step back to a much safer distance. Safer for Phil, at least, because he was feeling hot and flustered from the brief contact and he didn't want to think about what would happen if he let Clint get too familiar with him.

The way Clint grinned and raised an eyebrow made Phil wonder whether the demon could read minds. He was going to need to learn a lot more about demons and their rules if he had to keep Clint for very long otherwise he could easily see things getting out of control.

Phil looked away and that was when he realised he was standing in the own living room of his own apartment, several miles away from the library. He blinked and then levelled a glare at Clint.

"What happened to only doing what I said?" he asked.

"I did. You said we should go home. I brought us to your home."

"That's-" Phil cut off his own protest because Clint was right, he'd said it and he had to learn to think about his words more carefully. "Fine. That's...fine. My car is back at the library but we can take the subway tomorrow. "

"Why? My way is so much faster."

"Your way is...unpleasant." Phil took a step in the direction of his bedroom. "I'm going to bed. You can take the sofa."

Clint made an unhappy face. "Your bed looks much more comfortable. And more than big enough for both of us."

"No."

"What if I promise to keep my hands to myself? I can probably do that."

"Still no."

"What if I get cold?"

Phil gestured to the blanket draped over the back of the sofa. "You can use that. Do demons get cold?"

"Sometimes." Clint folded his arms over his chest and tilted his chin up defensively. "Sometimes we get very cold. I'd feel much better if I slept in your bed. It's probably very warm."

"Go to sleep, Clint." Phil gestured. "On the sofa."

Clint muttered something under his breath but he obeyed, throwing himself onto the sofa with a muffled grunt. He pulled off his t-shirt and Phil caught a glimpse of bare shoulder before he hurriedly turned his back and went into his bedroom, closing the door behind him and leaning against it for a moment.

There was a very attractive - and probably very naked by now - demon stretched out on his sofa and Phil didn't have the first clue what to do with him.

That was a lie, Phil could think of a few things to do with him and they all promised to be very bad ideas. The kind he'd regret later even if they felt amazing at the time.

No, he'd find a way to send the demon back to hell and he'd make sure all the demon-raising books were locked away somewhere safe, which would put an end to the entire unsettling episode.

If only Phil felt more confident it would be that simple.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Different Sort of Gift](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149928) by [bibliolatry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliolatry/pseuds/bibliolatry)
  * [Cover for 'The Demon and the Librarian'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1539422) by [lucyycx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucyycx/pseuds/lucyycx)




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